You Reap What You Sow
by daReaper02
Summary: The Greyjoy Rebellion changed much in the political landscape of Westeros. Chief among them, how Ironborn were viewed by society and the lords on the mainland. They are viewed as liars, thieves, and brutes by everyone in Westeros. This certainly doesn't help when two brothers are taken from their home in the Iron Islands, and sent to the North to be "fostered" by Eddard Stark.
1. A Lesson

**Author's Note: Yep, it's a Game of Thrones story. Bet I surprised you guys huh? Yeah? Anyway, recently I was righting Mass Luck and I kept hitting major writers block, so my solution was to make a completely different story and "expand my horizons". This should help with my writers block as it adds something fresh, instead of just constant sci fi stuff.**

 **Any who, to the Game of Thrones fans out there, you may be wondering, " _Why write a story on a Greyjoy?"_ My answer, I have always had a fascination with the Ironborn and their culture, and I feel as if they get left out a lot in the fandom. Plus, I wanted to see what would happen if there had been another son that survived the Greyjoy Rebellion. Would it still be Theon who gets taken, the new brother, or both. Would Robb still send a emissary to treat with Balon in search of help in his war? Would that lead to a different outcome? These are the questions I hope to answer while I write this story.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones or A Song of Ice and Fire, as they belong to George R. R. Martin and HBO.**

…

The seven year old boy, Daron Greyjoy, stood atop one of the towers of Pyke, his dark, brown hair blowing in the wind. His brother, Maron, by his side. Others were atop the tower as well. Some were trained Ironborn reavers, strong, battle hardened, and good with a bow. Most of the other " _soldiers_ " were actually peasants that had been conscripted from Lordsport and surrounding villages, these were not trained men however. Merely craftsmen, fishermen, and their sons, who had no clue how to hold a axe or bow.

 _They shouldn't even be here. Forced to fight for a cause they know nothing about._ That was a thought that had passed through both the Greyjoy siblings' heads when the " _volunteers_ ", as his father called them, came through the gates one day. Of course, when Maron expressed his doubts on the " _volunteers_ " their father, _King_ Balon, had lashed out at him, saying that " _They will fight well and serve their king! Do not question me_ _ **boy**_ _!"_ Maron hadn't spoken to him for days after that.

Not only were the volunteers experience in question, it was the equipment they were working with that worried the brothers, for they both understood that a soldier could have experience but should they not have the right equipment then they would shatter and retreat, this Maron learned from their grandfather, Quellon. Maron then taught Daron the very same lesson. Alas their father did not take this advice to heart.

Yes, the Reavers wore rusted plate armor and chain mail, with patches of leather visible in areas that a metal piece couldn't be found and payed for by " _The Iron Price_ ". They all had bows strapped to their backs, axes or swords at their belts, and a shield. All of which made then about as good as a common soldier. But there were simply not enough of them to protect the castle.

Thus their father had come up with the brilliant idea to conscript the men he needed from Lordsport and other towns. He told the local lords to send many of the men to Pyke, for a " _special duty_ ". What do they receive for their _duty_? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

What was worse was the fact that they wore no armor at all, just wool and leather tunics. Their weapons? Hooks made to hang sharks that the fishermen would catch, hammers that the craftsmen used to make their furniture and such other things, and those that were lucky got a throwing axe or knife.

What father hoped to achieve was the illusion that the castle had a full garrison that was well equipped. He did this in the hope that the foolish Baratheon King would be fooled, and besiege the castle instead of openly attacking the castle. What he didn't count on were the advisers of the king to be so cunning in " _advanced strategy_ ". Maron had objected to that again, stating, " _That_ _ **foolish**_ _Baratheon wouldn't have won the war if he didn't have good advisers, or was competent in basic strategy."_ That had earned him a slap to the face and his banishment from his father's Small Council.

The brothers stood in silence as they watched the Loyalist forces prepare for the final battle to end their father's foolish rebellion. Daron examined the ships with his light brown eyes scanned the enemy's ships. Their flags fluttered in the wind, he recognized many of them; The Grey Direwolf of House Stark, The Golden Lion of House Lannister, The Silver Trout of House Tully, The Purple Grapes of House Redwyne, The Golden Roses of House Tyrell, The Black Stag of House Baratheon, and the Royal sigil.

 _So much for, "He won't have the support of the kingdom."_

From what Daron could tell there were hundreds of ships surrounding Pyke, with thousands of men on board them. Of course, that's not even counting the land force already parked on Pyke's doorstep. Twelve-thousand Royal, Lannister, and Stark forces, ready to storm a castle gaurded by a total of two-hundred experienced troops. The brothers took in the weight of their predicament, an thought of the events that had lead to their situation.

It had all gone so wrong. First, their idiot brother, Rodrik, had decided to prove himself to father, and so he left to try and take the coastal fortress of Seagaurd. In his last letter, he said that he and his men were close to breaching the walls and that he would be joining his men on the wall. From how he made it sound in the letter, it seemed the Rivermen would be easily defeated. The lack of new letters, however, showed that he had failed in his endeavors, and was most likely dead. Ironic as the last words in the letter were, " _What Is Dead May Never Die, Rodrik Greyjoy."_

Rodrik's death was later confirmed when a ship bearing the Mallister sigil appeared off the coast of Pyke a week after his last message was received. It simply lowered a raft into the water and sailed away. Then, when the raft was recovered it was revealed to hold the headless body of Rodrik inside. His head mounted on a pike that had been attached to the front of the raft. Father merely took a glance and then sat back on his throne. The rest of the family actually mourned the loss of their family member.

Then, Uncle Victarion had taken the majority of The Iron Fleet in order to stop the king's brother, Stannis Baratheon, from blockading the Iron Isles, and leaving open to invasion. He to, was confident his campaign would end in a victory. Suffice it to say, it ended in a quick and decisive victory for the Loyalists under the command of the Baratheon, Master of Ships, at Fair Isle. In this battle another Greygoy was believed to have been slain, their uncle, Aeron Greyjoy. Again Father barely batted a eye. This battle also resulted in the loss of most of The Iron Fleet, which then left all the islands open to invasion. Something all of the islands were experiencing as of the moment.

The eerie silence was then broken by the sound of a single horn. Then, the sound of soldiers marching. The two brothers looked in the direction of the Royalist army already on Pyke, and Maron spoke, "And so it begins," he then looked back at Daron, "Daron, promise me one thing," Daron nods, "If I should fall in battle, swear to me that you and Theon will look out for one another. Don't just try to keep him safe, don't make him your enemy instead support each other, because after today things will no doubt be very different for our family. I don't know how, but I feel it. In the days ahead, you will need him as much as he will need you. Do you understand? This is no small matter."

Daron nodded his head, albeit slowly as he thought of what could possibly change after today. Maron smiled though, "Now do you swear to protect and stand by your brother?"

"I swear."

"Good, now I must go. It is time for me to face the consequences of our Father's actions... you know what the small folk say do you not?" Daron shook his head, and Maron smiled.

"You reap what you sow... live by those words little brother."

And with that Maron turned on his heel and walked down the tower. Leaving Daron to his thoughts.

 _I will keep my promise brother, don't worry. No matter what._

…

 **Reaper: Well guys it's done! I have to say, it felt really good to write something different after just writing sci fi stuff all the time! Sure did help with my writers block and I feel like my creativity has been restored.**

 **Anyway, to the Game Of Thrones fans out there, please review and tell me how I did. Keep in mind I tried to stay as close to the source material as possible, but I decided to add Victarion, a book character, to the story, for the sake of the backstory. I love reviews as they help me figure out what I need to improve when I write my stories, and it would be much appreciated! I hope you enjoyed, and goodbye!**


	2. Brothers

**Author's Note: Sup guys! So I decided that I will push out another one of these before I start back up on ML. You know, get the story up on it's legs, then alternate between this one and ML. Anyway, I thank you all for the support that I've received and I do hope that you will continue to enjoy this story!**

 **Disclaimer: Don't own Game of Thrones/ A Song of Ice and Fire, George R. R. Martin and HBO do.**

…

About five and ten minutes after Maron left the tower, Daron started to descend. He decided that it might be best if he spent his remaining time with his family. As he descended the old, stone tower, he thought about what Maron had made him promise.

 _How am I supposed to support **Theon!** We butt heads far to often for us to get along now! We never agree on anything! He looks up to father as if he were a god, while I despise the man! _

Daron shook his head at the thought of his arrogant, older brother. Theon took after Father and Rodrik far to much to be in Daron's good graces. This was mostly because of his cockiness and the notion that he was better then everyone else in the whole world, where he was anything but.

 _Well... I guess I might not **have** to keep this oath. Maron did say " **if** ," he falls in battle, so that doesn't mean that I have to keep the promise if he survives... oh by the Drowned God... **if**!_

At the thought of his older brother dying that very day, Daron began running down the tower's stairs, hoping to catch up to his brother before the Royalists reached the walls and broke through the gate. He guessed he was about halfway down the tower already, and estimated it wouldn't take him but a minute or two in order to reach the bottom.

 _God, I can't lose him! He's the only one in this family that **actually** cares about me! He's my only friend on this island!_

All the while, images of a simpler flashed in Daron's mind. A time with no war. A time when he didn't have a care in the world.

 _Him and Maron, sat on a small dock under the castle of Pyke, fishing rods in hand. Maron had decided to teach him how to fish that day, stating, "It's a very important skill to learn, Daron."_

" _Why? We have the peasants to do these types of jobs, don't we?"_

 _At this Maron frowned and shrugged, "Yes, we do have the peasants to do these sorts of things, but you never know what could happen."_

 _Daron was perplexed by this, and cocked his head to the side a small bit, "What do you mean?"_

 _His brother sighed, "As you know Daron, you are fourth in line in the inheritance of the lordship of Pyke and Paramountcy of the Iron Isles. In order for you to inherit Rodrik, Me, and Theon must all die or abdicate our claims, and seeing as how unlikely it is for both me_ _ **and**_ _dear Rodrik to kick the bucket without siring a child during our lives. I find it unlikely you will ever rule over more than the Iron Fleet, brother. Of course, you were always going to own your own ship someday, and what were you to do if you were shipwrecked? You wouldn't have the peasants around to help you, or all of those fancy dishes that are served at Father's feasts to sustain you. All you would have is your mind, resources around you, your skills, and the sea. And what sustenance comes from the sea brother?"_

 _Daron finally understood, nodding vigorously he answered the question, "Fish. We eat it all the time, it comes from the sea!"_

 _The older Greyjoy smiled and nodded, "Aye, but first you must know how to catch fish before you can eat them, and_ _ **that**_ _is why I'm teaching you how to fish today little brother," Maron paused as he saw the tip of his rod being pulled toward the water, and his line was starting to unravel, "Perfect timing."_

 _He then passed the rod to Daron and spoke, "Well brother, I want you to catch this one."_

" _What! B-but, I don't know how!"exclaimed Daron, his eyes bulging from his skull._

 _Maron chuckled, "Don't worry, just hold onto the rod tight, and pull in the line. Just be careful not to pull to hard, or the line might snap and the fish will escape. You got it?"_

 _Daron nods and focuses on the task at hand. He stands up, holding the rod in both hands, careful not to let the line go from his grip as he slowly pulled the line back and wrapped it around his hand._

 _Had anyone else his age attempt in doing this then they would probably fail, Daron was a exception though. He had been born with considerable natural strength, but it was this that made it possible to hold the rod._

" _There ya' go Daron! Just keep doing that, and you'll get that fish in no time!"_

 _Daron smiled at his brother's praise, but he lost his focus and didn't expect the line to start tightening up. He also felt as if he were being pulled off of the dock by the pull on the rod. Thankfully, he felt his brother take the rod out of his hands but not the line._

" _Just keep winding up the line, Daron," he grunted out, "I got this!"_

 _And so he did, he used all his strength to slowly pull the line back in, and after a minute working together, they were able to haul the fish onto the dock._

 _Daron examined the fish and marveled at the size, it was about three feet long, with dark-grayish skin covering most of its body. It's back was covered in bony studs, which were a light-gray color._

 _Daron knew immediately what kind of fish it was, as it eventually became his favorite dish. It was called the Iron Fish, mostly due to the color of the fish and the extremely hard studs that covered it's back. They were hardly ever caught, and when they were, many fishermen sold them to lords as the fish was considered a delicacy to the Ironborn and they would pay good coin in order to obtain them._

 _The fish was usually placed in a furnace and left their to cook for hours, this would add a smoky flavor to the creature. The longer it stayed in the furnace, the softer the meat would become. It was also stuffed with vegetables to help add a bit of sweetness to the fish, and to take away some of the bitter taste._

 _Daron had to shake his head in order to stop salivating over the creature, and looked back over at Maron, who was also staring at the fish. Then he snapped from his stupor and spoke, "Well, looks like we caught ourselves some Iron Fish ,brother... pretty good size too."_

" _Can we take it back up to the castle and show father? Do you think he will be pleased with us?"_

 _Maron wide smile immediately turned to a scowl with the mention of our father, which made perfect sense as he barely cared about anyone other then Rodrik. Who father was constantly grooming to be the "perfect" Ironborn._

 _Daron took note of this and wondered what he had done to upset his brother, "What's wrong?"_

 _The older Greyjoy snapped out of his daze and smiled, "Nothing. Say, how about we take this straight to the kitchens? Surprise them?" He then got on his knees and drew a knife from a sheath, and then plunged it into the dying fish's head._

 _The idea was a good one, and it made perfect sense to Daron, who always sought to be noticed and praised. This was hard as he was the youngest child, and no one wanted to pay attention to him._

" _Yes! Let's do that!" He looked up at the castle above them, "That will be a long climb though won't it?"_

 _As he looked back at his brother he saw he had gotten the fish onto his shoulder and was adjusting it's position, "Yeah, but I'll be fine. I can carry this thing up there, don't worry."_

 _With that the two brothers started walking back up the cliffs to get back to Pyke. Walking in silence as they ascended the rocky surface, that was until Daron decided to break the silence, "Hey Maron?"_

" _Yeah?" Maron didn't turn around to face the boy, he just kept walking._

" _I had a lot of fun doing this, do you think we can do it again sometime?"_

 _That made his older brother stop. Maron turned around slowly until he was facing his younger brother and spoke, "Really? You want to do this again?"_

" _Yes, why not?"_

 _Maron looked shocked, this threw his younger brother for a loop as he was sure that today had been very successful as far as fishing was concerned. There was also the fact that he had fun learning how to fish with his brother. So why didn't he look too excited to the fact of him joining in fishing again._

 _Finally, Maron smiled, and opened his mouth to speak, "No reason, it's just that... well... when I showed Theon how to do fish he laughed afterwards and said he would never do it again. Same with Rodrik. So... you actually wanting to continue is... well... a pleasant surprise."_

" _So we can do this more?"_

" _Aye, that would be very nice, brother."_

 _The two brothers smiled at one another and then continued walking toward the castle. Carrying their catch with them. This was one of many outings the brothers held, but by far the most important to Daron._

…

Daron shook his head and wondered how he had zoned out while thinking about the event that lead to Maron becoming one of his only friends. Then he realized he was standing at the bottom of the tower. Just looking at the door in front of him.

 _God. How long have I been standing here?_

He looked at the door in front of him, and approached it. From what he could hear, it sounded as if the Royalists had breached the walls. He could here the sound of steel clashing, and men's screams as they were either killed or being killed.

 _Should I stay in here or try to find Maron? I could go find him and we could try to get to the keep together... or I could stay here and try to "ride out the storm" so to speak... no, I have to go find him it's the only option. They'll find me eventually, and when they do they'll probably kill me._

As Daron made his decision he place his hand on the door and slowly pushed it open. He then stepped into the raging battle outside.

…

 **Reaper: Well, this chapters done! What I hoped to accomplish in this chapter was to establish the importance of Maron to his brother, and how much influence he can have on him in the future. I hope that I was able to accomplish this, and thanks for reading guys! Don't forget to review so that I know what I can improve in this story!**


	3. Nightmare

**Author's Note: Yep, I'm making another one! Surprising I know, but I couldn't think of anything else to write, so you know. Anyway, first off I want to say thank you to those of you that decided to leave a review, and to let you know that it really helps me write my stories better and it also inspires me to write more. Now with all of that out of the way, let's begin shall we?**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones in any way, shape, or form. That honor goes to good ol' George R. R. Martin.**

 **PS: The song "Requiem For A Dream" works very well for this chapter. I recommend listening to it as you read.**

…

As Daron stepped through the threshold of the doorway and out into the courtyard, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose. What he smelled shocked him, it wasn't the familiar smell of salt and fish, but that of smoke, burned flesh, and blood. He nearly gagged at the stench, but kept it together.

 _By the Drowned God! I'm going to throw up... oh god... I don't want to open my eyes... not if this is just the smell... no, I have to find Maron! I can get through this!_

As Daron opened his eyes, his breath hitched as he took in the battle before him. The main gate of Pyke had been split open, most likely by battering ram, and the main tower of the south wall had collapsed. The Royalists were pouring through the breach, slaughtering all who opposed them. This was not much of a surprise, but what did surprise him was how brutally they killed the Ironborn.

The peasants were being massacred, many had already routed and decided to try and run to the great hall in order to gain entry, and to perhaps be spared from their fates, only to be stopped by around twenty Ironborn spear men. Those who were still putting up a fight were either cleaved in two, or losing a limb to the enemy.

Daron snapped out of his stupor just in time to watch as a group of five or so men neared the door to the great hall only to be told to turn around and rejoin the _fight_ , also stating that they would be rewarded for their services when the battle was won. However, the peasants decided to continue to advance toward the spear men and one began yelling, "Bugger that! We'r being slaughtered out there! We aren't goin' ba-"

Before he could speak more, the man let out a choked sound as blood began to pour out of his mouth, and he appeared to attempt to look at the blood soaked spear as it was pulled from his throat. He stood there for a few seconds, spluttering, the other peasants standing there in shock, he then attempted to bring his hand up to stop the blood from pouring out of from his mangled throat. His hand brushed wound, and then he collapsed, blood began to pool around his body.

The man's killer stepped forward, bloody spear in hand, and kicked the dead man's body. He then looked up at the other peasants, "Well, what are you waiting for! Get back out there!"

No one moved.

"I see, you want to end up like your friend here don't ya'?"

That got them moving. The peasants backed up a few steps, then ran back toward the battle, tripping over each other in the process. The spear man walked back into formation as they did so.

Daron, having witnessed the whole event, was busy puking his guts out. He then looked back at the dead peasant as he wiped his mouth clean of any leftover puke. His puking didn't surprise him, he had just seen a man die after all, but he didn't expect for the spear man to kill any of the peasants. Men on his own side of the battle!

As Daron thought of this he turned his head back to the battle, and saw that the situation had grown worse, nearly all the peasants were dead, and the reavers were being picked off one by one. He had to do something quick if he was going to find his brother.

 _God... I'm gonna have to go into that won't I? But... I can't... I'm just a kid... what if I wind up like..._

His gaze wandered to the corpse of the peasant, but he shook his head.

 _No! I have to find Maron... no matter what... no matter how... how... scared I may be..._

With that though, Daron ran toward the center of the courtyard. When he reached the edges of the battle the sound of metal clashing and screams deafened him, but he had to push on. Along the way he ran passed both the dead and the dying. Those who were dying reached out for him, using their bloodied hands or stumps to try and grab him, crying for him to help them, he just kept running.

 _I can't look at them. I can't look at them. I can't lo-_ "Ahhh!"

He felt his foot hit something, and he fell to the ground, landing in a pool of blood. The air left his lungs as he thudded against the ground, and he couldn't breath. He laid there for a second, stunned, but he regained his mobility quickly, pushing himself off of the ground, and turning to look at what had caused him to fall down in the blood.

It was a corpse, it was facing toward Daron, but what surprised him was how small it was. The corpse looked to be around his size, perhaps smaller, but that wasn't all he saw. He also saw brown, cold eyes staring back into his own, and dark brown hair caked in blood. It terrified him, and then he realized that the boy was probably the same age as he was. He trembled.

 _H-he lo-looks like me... I... I have to get out of here!_

Daron stood back up, but didn't get very far as he froze at the sight of all the corpses on the ground. Blank, dead eyes stared back at him. There was blood everywhere. Fire everywhere. The air smelled of salt and smoke.

 _I have to go! I don't want to die!_

But Daron couldn't move. He willed his legs to move but they wouldn't. The muscles in his legs refused every command he gave them. Suddenly he heard Maron's voice in his head.

" _You Reap What You Sow" No... no... no... no... no... I have to leave... now_

Daron then started to run, he didn't know where, but he knew anywhere was better than in that courtyard.

It was all a blur.

Blood. Smoke. Salt.

That was all he saw or smelled...

Over and over...

Metal clashing...

The screaming...

The screams...

…

...

Daron was out of breath, he couldn't remember how long he'd been running, but he knew it had been a while as the battle had died down and it appeared as if the Ironborn had lost. He slowly stopped running then fell to the ground, and realized he was in front of the remains of a collapsed tower. He looked around the stones and saw a gloved hand sticking out from underneath one, a large fire a few feet away that looked like it was going to spread inside the remains of the tower.

It was still for the longest time, Daron sat there for minutes watching it. Then something happened.

It moved.

He couldn't believe it.

 _It moved._

He scrambled toward the stones and began to pull them from the pile. It was hard work, especially as he felt the fire grow hotter next to him.

 _Why am I doing this?_

In truth he didn't know. The poor man was probably dead, and Daron had probably just imagined it,but he felt compelled to do it though. A few more stones were in the way of the poor man's face.

He moved them off.

It was Maron.

…

 **Reaper: Well folks, that's it! Thanks for reading and please leave a review to let me know how I'm doing! Any way it's like 11 PM and I have stuff to do tomorrow so this is what you get for today! There might be another update tomorrow so remember that!**


	4. Payment

**Author's Note:** **Hey guys! Here's another chapter for this wonderful story! Who would have though that I would be able to get two of these out within a week of each other. Quite a surprise I say! Anyway, I would like to say thank all of you for reviewing, following, and favoriting my story! Heck, even reading this helps inspire me to write more. Anyway, let's get started shall we?**

 **Disclaimer: Yea, Game of Thrones and A Song of Ice and Fire are not mine. HBO and George own those two. I only own any OC that appear.**

…

Daron couldn't feel anything as he looked upon the crushed corpse of his brother. All he felt was numbness, loss, and something warm coming from his eyes. He guessed tears. Everything else he blocked out. The smell of death, the heat of the fire that was growing ever closer, and men's screams. He didn't care.

And why should he? His best friend. The only person on that god-forsaken ball of mud that had cared about him, was dead. Crushed beneath the stones of a fallen tower, all because of the actions of their foolish family.

 _I was to late..._

Daron looked up from his brother's mangled body, and toward the courtyard of Pyke. It was covered with bodies. Piles upon piles of them. Royalists walked among the dead and killed the Ironborn wounded. Sliting their throats... and then moving on.

 _A mercy. All things considered..._

Peasants, reavers, and knights. All dead because his father wished to restore the " _glory_ " of the Ironborn. The only way to do that was to gain independence... and this was the result... thousands dead for his father's foolish ambitions .The " _Old Way_ " and " _Iron Price_ " his father had called it.

The names made sense in Daron's mind now. It was the Old Way indeed. It didn't work anymore, which made complete and total sense. The Ironborn would never be able to survive on their own against the whole of Westeros if they raided every land they knew of. The piles of Ironborn dea-

 _No. Just dead men. Not just Ironborn, they were all alive. All of this loss of life... is my father's fault! Maron is dead because of him! Damn him **and** the Drowned God!_

He could hear his brother's voice in his head again. The last thing Maron had said to him.

 _You Reap What You Sow... live by those words little brother..._

Daron shivered as he looked back down at his brother's corpse. His anger rose, and the tears continued to stream down his face. He struggled to keep from sobbing.

 _I have to bring news to fa- NO! That man isn't my father... not anymore... not after this... nonetheless, I must tell everyone of your death. No doubt father won't care, but I will mourn you brother. I will never forget you. This I swear._

With that, Daron rose from the mud and as he turned to leave, he caught one last look of his brother. He paused, and then continued walking away. Previous fears forgotten, he crossed the courtyard littered with piles of corpses. Then to the doors to the great hall, where he was stopped by two men.

They were both wearing northern attire. Both bore the Stark sigil on the breasts of their leather armor, and they were also covered in blood. The expressions that they wore told Daron that he looked no better. They stood there in silence until one spoke up, "You look like you've been dragged through hell and back lad."

 _Perhaps..._

Daron examined the one that had spoken, long, black hair and a wild beard covered his head and face. He was a large fellow, but he couldn't bother to be scared. Not after what he had just seen. Eventually he saw fit to address him, and in a monotone voice he spoke, "I need to see Lord Balon."

The big one quirked a eyebrow, "An' why is that lad?"

"I bring news of some of his sons."

"And which ones are those?" The tone of his voice revealed he didn't believe Daron, but he continued nonetheless.

"His heir and youngest."

 _Just let me in..._

Daron heard a bout of laughter from the second guard and snapped his eyes to him. This one had short, red hair and no beard. After a few seconds the laughing stopped and the guard faked wiping a tear from his eye, "Oh that's funny, and how would you 'now such sensitive informati'n."

 _Give me a break..._

Daron looked at the ground and spoke in a quiet voice, "Because I am one."

There was silence for a while, and then he heard the doors to the great hall open. He looked back up to see the big Northman looking down on him with sympathetic eyes, "Go'n lad. Go find your father."

Daron offered a quick 'thank you' before he dashed inside the great hall. His anger began to surge again as his eyes landed of the form of his _father_ , who was kneeling before a large, well built man who wore yellow and black armor.

 _King Robert Baratheon..._

" _ **YOU! HE'S DEAD BECAUSE OF YOU!**_ "

Daron didn't know what possessed him as he charged past all the soldiers and other lords in the hall. All he could feel was the rage that was burning within him as he ran toward his father, emitting a ear-piercing yell. He felt the whole room's attention on him as he neared hie father, and as he got close he tackled the man to the ground.

Daron then sat on top of the former king and pulled his arm back, the whole time yelling his head off. He then swung his fist down onto his father's face, which wore a expression of total surprise, and heard a satisfying crunch his fist hit the murderer's then pulled his other fist back, but felt himself pulled off of his fool of a father and suspended into the air.

" **NO! PUT ME DOWN! I'M GONNA KILL THAT BASTARD!** "

Daron was then spun around to face who was holding him, and was met with the face of the Baratheon King. The man laughed and spoke in a deep voice, "Well, it appears we have found one of your missing children _Lord_ _Balon_! You must be overjoyed," he then looked back down at the recovering Balon, who was now bleeding from the nose, "Shame he doesn't feel the same way!"

" **LET ME AT HIM!** "

"Well, I might if you calm the fuck down boy!"

"Robert, put the boy down."

Daron, who still wasn't calming down, peered over the king's shoulder in order to determine who had spoken on his behalf. The man was Northern, that much was clear. He was wearing plate armor with the Stark sigil on the breast, much like the guards outside but much more detailed and intricate. He bore a mop of long, dark brown hair and grew a slight beard. It was when Daron saw his eyes did he know who he was looking at, his eyes were a grey color.

 _Paramount of The North. Lord of Winterfell. Eddard Stark_

…

 **Reaper: That's a rap folks! I know it's short, but I had nothing better to do for a while so I sat down and made this. Next time we will probably see Daron leave The Iron Isles for Winterfell. So excited to write that, mostly because I can leave TGR behind and write about something else. Now, don't forget to review so that I can improve my writing skills, and thanks for reading! 'Till next time!**


	5. Disrespect

**Author's Note: Here you go guys! First off, I would like to apologize for my lateness in updating for a while. School is kicking my butt right now but I will not give up on this story, I will continue to try and work on this whenever I have the time. Just keep in mind I have a pretty busy life and that I can't work on this all the time, however that does not mean I have stopped my efforts. Anyways, here you guys go!**

 **BTW I rewrote this as it was brought to my attention that I had screwed up a bit with the positioning of a few characters in the last iteration of this chapter. Thus, I took it down and have replaced it with this as I care for the accuracy of this story, more so than you guys could believe.**

 **Disclaimer: AGOT Rights = HBO + G.R.R.M**

…

Daron was angry. Angrier than he had ever been his entire life... and it was all his _father's_ fault. Maron was dead, crushed underneath a fallen tower because of their father's actions. Daron couldn't help but remember his brother's last words before he descended that tower earlier that day.

 _You Reap What You Sow..._

Meanwhile, the now former-king Balon Greyjoy was alive. Kneeling before Robert Baratheon, ready to swear his fealty to him once again. The only signs of a fight he showed was the bloody nose Daron had given him only moments before, and he would've given him more had the Baratheon King not stopped him. Of course, the king looked quite happy when Daron had been accounted for. Either from the fact that he wouldn't have to worry about some child skulking around Pyke, or for how he had announced himself.

It didn't really matter anyway, Daron was now restrained by the large king, who had seen fit to stop him from landing a second punch on the the former-king, and wasn't going to be released until he _calmed the fuck down_ , in the king's words. Thankfully, one lord had decided to step in before things could escalate. One Eddard Stark, Warden of The North, Lord of Winterfell, and close friend to the king himself.

"Robert, put the boy down," said the Stark as he walked toward the king, he stopped when he stood a few feet behind the king and looked at Daron, "Either put him down, or let me handle him."

The king let out a small chuckle and looked back at the Great Lord, "Relax Ned, I'm not going to hurt the lad," his gaze swept back to Daron, "If anything, I like this one. He has spirit!"

The king let out another bout of laughter, but calmed down after a small while, "Anyway, I suppose we should put this lad with his family," he looked back at his friend, and his face changed into a more serious expression, "Take him to them."

Daron's rage quickly evaporated as he heard those words.

 _Please don't..._

He looked back at the Ironborn at his feet, "I have to take care of this sack of shit."

Daron, who was still suspended in the air, finally spoke up, "Please... don't bring me to _them_..."

The king raised a brow, "An' why is that lad?"

"They'll make me tell..." he replied, albeit very meekly.

The Stark finally spoke up, "Tell them what?"

Daron felt the tears beginning to well up in his eyes, "That Maron, my brother... that he's... d-" he couldn't hold back the sob that escaped his mouth, the tears had begun to stream down his face, "he's dead..."

As the words left his mouth he broke down. He began to sob uncontrollably, and he began to shake. The anger was gone, now it was replaced with sadness and loss.

The king lowered Daron to the ground, but as soon as his support left Daron he collapsed to the floor. He curled up into a ball and continued sobbing, now mourning the loss of his brother, and only true friend.

The hall was filled with the murmuring of soldiers and other minor lords, the only noise was Daron's sobbing, and the distant sound of the ocean outside. Daron heard the king and Lord Eddard move away from him, quite possibly to give him some room.

It continued like this for what felt like ages to Daron, just him sobbing in front of bloodied men and soldiers. He himself also covered in the dirt and grime of battle. But it eventually stopped when someone spoke up, "Oh for the Drowned God's sake STOP CRYING BOY! YOU PITIFUL EXCUSE FOR AN IRONBORN!"

 _Father..._

Daron kept his head in his knees, wishing he were anywhere except that hall. He continued to sob, "YOU WILL STOP BOY!" he still didn't stop, the former king snarled at him in disappointment, "YOU ALWAYS WERE WEAK!," he paused, "JUST LIKE YOUR BROTHER!"

Daron jerked his head up and looked at his father with what could only be described as pure hatred, "DON'T YOU DARE TALK ABOUT HIM! HE FOUGHT AND DIED OUT THERE," he pointed his small arm toward the entrance of the hall, "WHILE YOU!" he pointed back at his father, "WERE SITTING ON THAT STUPID THRONE WHILE OTHER MEN DIED FOR YOU! LIKE-LIKE SOME **COWARD**!"

As soon as those words had left Daron's mouth his eyes widened and he quickly brought his hands up to his mouth. The hall had gone silent, everyone shocked at how openly the former-king's son had openly mocked him, even if it was on accident. No one moved... except Balon.

The old Greyjoy leapt to his feet with surprising agility, and began to stalk toward the small boy his eyes filled with rage, "You have disrespected me for the last time boy!"

 _Oh god... what have I done!_

The child suddenly froze when he saw what his father was hiding up the sleeve of his robe. A small dagger, it's purpose was probably Balon's last ditch attempt to fight the Baratheon king if things didn't turn out in a way Balon could escape with his head, but now that Daron had insulted him...

He slowly crawled backwards as his father slowly removed the steel from his sleeve, but it didn't take the older man long to lunge at him. The sight of the blade must have snapped the men in the hall back to reality as many of them began to draw their own steel or shout at the sight of the small dagger, but most had moved away during Daron's breakdown seemingly to far away to reach the poor boy in time.

Daron looked up at his father with tears streaming down his face, "P-p-please father! I-I-I didn't mean it!"

 _Please don't..._

His father simply stared down at him, a malicious glint in his eye, pulled the arm with the knife back, and quickly brought the blade back toward his son in what seemed like a second.

Daron felt the cold bite of the blade on his left brow, and time seemed to slow as the blade moved lower toward his eye.

There was a blur of white as someone slammed into his father, sending the knife in his hand clattering to the stone floor in front of Daron. The white knight pinned his father to the ground, slamming his face into the cobbled stone floor of the great hall. However, Daron was not paying much attention the struggle taking place in front of him.

His gaze was locked on the dagger at his feet.

 _It's stained with my blood..._

Wearily, Daron drew his hand up to touch the cut on his brow, which was now pumping blood down his face and into his eyes. He felt searing pain surge through him as his hand made contact with the wound, letting a small yelp escape his mouth as he retracted his now blood stained hand. He sat still for a moment, ignoring the muffled sounds coming from around him and his surroundings, trying to come to terms with what had happened over the course of a day. Becoming lost in his own thoughts.

 _H-he tried to kill me. His own son... why..._

Daron was startled out of his thoughts when he felt a presence on his shoulder, looking up he saw that it was King Robert, who didn't look particularly happy. Fear began to run rampant within his mind, especially since he know knew the way of the world. The death and destruction humans could inflict upon one another... the pain...

Instead he was surprised when the king's face turned to one of genuine concern ,"Come on lad, let's get you to a maester and get that cut looked at."

Daron nodded slowly, suddenly feeling very numb and cold to the rest of the world as the events of the day weighed down upon him. He stood up on shaky legs, suddenly fearful of those around him. He was again surprised when the king picked him up and began to walk away from the crowd. Being allowed to rest and let his guard down for the first time in hours, Daron realized that he was dead tired, and as the king carried him through Pyke in search of a maester, he drifted off to sleep.

It was not a peaceful one.

…

 **Reaper: Tah-da! I hope you people are happy with this (I know I'm not), but I thought it would be better if I gave you guys something to read now, rather than later. And WOW I just have to say thanks for how much support this story has gotten! It fills me with pride to know my writing skill aren't total garbage, and for that I thank you all. Anyways, cya guys next time!**


End file.
